The Titanic Aviator
by James Church
Summary: Two iconic Leonardo DeCaprio characters in one story.  In an alternative universe where Howard Hughes is born ten years earlier and returns from a trip to Europe only to meet his true love on an ill-fated voyage.
1. Chapter 1

PRESENT DAY-1996

Brock Lovett watched intently the small monitor inside the submersible, as his assistant Lewis Bodine carefully threaded the ROV or remotely-operated vehicle through the wrecked stateroom of the great sunken ship. "Watch the floor, Lewis" Lovett said sternly. "I am, I am…don't tell me how to drive Snoop". Continuing into the interior of the room, the ROV's camera spotted various detritus…bits of broken porcelin, a rusted bed frame, shattered glass fixtures. It then proceeded to a specific corner of the room.

The robotic vehicle drifted slightly, as its light fell upon the prize they were looking for. It was a steel combination safe. "Pay day!" Lovett proclaimed. And the two men smiled at each other.

Upon on the deck of the Russian research vessel, the safe's hinges were burned off with a welding torch. Lovett himself grabbed the door and pulled it free. Water poured out as well as a leather pouch. He prodded the inside with a small rod. Small jewelry, an opal ring, a brooch, a man's pocket watch. But little else. "Crap" was Lovett's only response.

Meanwhile Bodine had picked up the leather pouch and began looking through it. Some papers, mostly receipts by the look of them from art dealers and clothing stores, many in French. And one sketchbook. He flipped it open gently. There was one page in it. A trained engineer, he recognized the drawing on it immediately….it was a metal furnace connected to a steel ladle, where molten steel is poured from the furnace, but with what is known as a 'lance' in it. Water-cooling and oxygenation feeds were linked to it. Notes indicated what seemed to be the modern oxygen steelmaking process, but not as detailed. Then Bodine saw the date…April 14, 1912. "Holy shit…Boss, look at this!"

Lovett, no engineer, looked at the drawing puzzled. "What am I looking at, Lewis?" "It's an oxygen steelmaking system." "So? Isn't that pretty standard?" Bodine shook his head, still holding the drawing delicately. "No,no.. Look at the date." Lovett again shrugged "Yeah, the night she went down." Bodine frustrated "No! This process of steelmaking was developed in Austria… in the early 1950s!" Lovett now interested looked closer. In the left hand corner was a written "Payment in full". Obviously a woman's hand-writing. In the right corner, near the date, were initials…."HRH"

The television interview later that day went much better than Lovett's discussion with his investors. The interviewer from CNN (remotely from Atlanta of course) was delving into the charge, perhaps rightly, that he was a "grave-robber." Lovett protested, citing his use of museum-qualified experts and the care they took in preserving the artifacts they recovered. He held up the drawing. "Look at this. A diagram drawn the night of the sinking still preserved after 84 years." Somewhere in Texas, an elderly woman asked her granddaughter to turn up the volume on the TV.

The next day, Bobby Buell, operations manager for the salvage, rushed up to Lovett as he was readying the submersibles for the next dive. "Brock…call for you." he said holding out a satellite phone, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. "Tell Bruce and David, nothing's changed since yesterday…and to get off my back" shot back Lovett "It's not them," Buell countered, "It's about the drawing." Lovett huffed. "I don't want to talk to some historian either." Buell pressed. "No, it's not an historian…you wanna take this call, Boss!"

Lovett grabbed the sat-phone. "Yes, this is Brock Lovett. Who is this?" "Mr. Lovett, I see you found my husband's plans" came the obviously elderly voice on the other side, "I trust it wasn't too disappointing not finding the Heart of the Ocean?"

An hour later, Lewis Bodine is arguing with Lovett on deck, as the submersibles were being de-activated and stowed. "What the hell is this, Boss?" Lovett smirked "Who else is around that knows what happened to that diamond, Lewis?" "Yeah, but her? She's got to be a hundred years old." "One hundred and one in a month…and the only one left who knows anything about that diamond." Bodine insisted "But, we've both read the history of …those two…they make no mention of it." Lovett waved him off "She knows where it is…I can feel it."

Two days passed. In a torrential downpour, a huge passenger/cargo helicopter was landing on the deck of the Russian ship. Though it looked like a large Coast Guard chopper, it was in fact privately owned. The company name was clearly seen on the sides and both Lovett and Bodine stared at it, impressed. Nearly everybody in the world knew the name.

They helped the elderly woman out of the helicopter and into a wheelchair. A woman in her 30s held an umbrella over the woman and they rolled her into the interior of the ship. Minutes later, they were all in her stateroom.

"Is this stateroom okay with you, Mrs. H…" "Rose," the lady interrupted, "Call me Rose, Mr. Lovett." Lovett smiled "Is this okay for you?" "It's very nice, thank you." She began, with the woman now identified as her granddaughter Allene or "Allie", to unpack her belongings…mostly photographs. "Well," Lovett began, "Is there anything I can get you?" "Yes," Rose answered, "I'd like to see my husband's drawing."

In the Preservation Area of the Lab Deck, the group was looking at the drawing, lying in a tray of water, until a better way to preserve it could be found... Lovett laid the tray on Rose's lap. Bodine pointed to several features on the drawing. "This is amazing!" he said showing where the oxygen tank connected to the lance, "This process wasn't developed until forty years after the Titanic went down. Austrian engineers at Linz after the war." Rose sniffed, "Austrian engineers! If they had listened to him in the 20s, they might have won the war. Good thing they didn't, actually."

"Rose", Lovett began gently, "This is what we were hoping you could help us out with." He pulled out a photo, obviously an old pre-World War-One photo done as a digital. It showed a huge diamond in the center of a necklace of smaller diamonds. "Louis-XVI originally wore it, but the theory is it was cut in two, re-shaped into a heart-shaped stone and made into this necklace. This is the only photo, from the jeweler in Paris around 1911."

"It was a dreadfully heavy thing," Rose added, "I only wore it once, when he gave it to me. And took it off very quickly."

Lovett continued, "I tracked down the insurance records, sealed under pretty tight orders. The claim was settled. Do you know who that claimant was?"

Rose smiles. "Someone named Hockley, I'd imagine." Lovett smiles back, they both knew it was a trick. "Yes. Nathan Hockley, steel tycoon. For his son, Caledon, who bought the necklace for his fiancée? It was filed after the sinking, so it had to have gone down with the ship." He cleared his throat. "From the stories told and the biographies of you and your husband, I'm under the impression you were that fiancée…originally." Rose nodded. "And I'll gladly credit you for any help you can give us in finding it."

Rose waved him off. "I don't need any credit, Mr. Lovett. All I want is this drawing to put in our museum." Lovett nodded "Of course."

In a separate area, Bodine and Buell had laid out several of the artifacts recovered from the stateroom where the safe was, and the adjoining one. A brooch, an ornate hair comb, and a fancy hand mirror. Rose picked them all up gently. She grasps the mirror "This was mine. Looks just like it did the last time I saw it." She turned it over and stared into it. "Reflection's a bit different."

"Rose," Lovett pressed, "Are you ready to go back to 'Titanic'?"


	2. Chapter 2

FRIDAY APRIL 12, 1912-

Rose Bukater leans out over the aft end of the RMS Titanic, her arms straightening...she looks down, captivated by the swirling, icy black water below. Her dress and hair are blown about by the wind. The sound of the flapping Union flag mixes with the sound of churning water. Behind her, a young, tall, slender man steps up.

"Don't do it," he said. Rose whips her head around at the sound of the voice.

"Stay back! Don't come any closer!" she stated, her voice cracking. The young man sees the tracks of her tears on her face, in the glow from the stern running lights. ** "**Take my hand. I'll pull you back in," he said softly.** "**No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go." 

"No I don't reckon you will" the young man said very slightly sarcastically. Rose becomes indignant.** "**What do you mean, no you don't 'reckon' I will'? Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me."The young man with the drawl shakes his head a bit. "You would' a done it by now. Now come on, take my hand." His words confuse Rose.

"You're distracting me. Go away," she states firmly, looking out to sea. He shakes his head more. "Nope. ** C**an't do that. I'm involved now. If you let go I have to jump in after you." She looks at him. **"**Don't be absurd. You'll be killed." The young man starts to take off his leather jacket.** "**I'm a perty good swimmer." Rose nearly laughed. "The fall alone would kill you." 

The young man lays his jacket on the deck. "It would hurt. I ain't saying it wouldn't. Six stories up, I figure. So impact in the water would feel like concrete. But honestly, I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold." Rose looks down. What she is doing is starting to sink in. "How cold?" ** "**Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees lower. Saltwater can get colder than fresh water. Ever been to Texas?"

Rose becomes confused. "No." The young man moves slowly forward, ever so slightly. "Well, don't anybody tell you it don't get cold in Texas. Some of the coldest winters around, mind you I grew up in Houston. But once when I was a kid me and my father were fly-fishing out on the Canadian River in January, up in the Panhandle...fly-fishing's where you…" Rose interrupts. "I know what fly-fishing is!" 

The tall, lanky young man nods. "Sorry. Just... you look like kind of an indoor gal. Anyway, I was wearing waders, but I fell over...and I'm tellin' ya, it was cold. But water that cold... like that right down there? It hits you hard, like a train crash. You can't breath, you can't think... least not about anything but the pain. Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you? But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."

Rose almost quietly. "You're crazy." The young man smiles slightly.** "**That's what folks in Houston…and elsewhere say a lot. But with all due respect, I ain't the one hanging off the back of a ship." He moves closer to Rose, like moving up on a scared puppy. ** "**Come on. You don't want to do this. Gimme yer hand." Rose stares at this strange man for some time. She looks at his eyes.** "**All right," she said at last. She unfastens one hand from the rail and reaches it around toward him. He reaches out to take it, firmly. 

"I'm Howard…Howard Hughes," he said almost formally. Rose responds, voice quavering, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hughes." Rose starts to turn. As she twists to climb, her foot slips off the edge of the deck. She falls, letting out a piercing scream. Howard, gripping her hand, is jerked at the rail. Rose grabs a lower rail with her free hand. One of the ship's officers hears the scream and heads for the ladder.

Rose yelped, "Help! Help!" Hughes firms up his grip and says calmly, "I've got you. I won't let go." Slowly, but surely Hughes lifts her over the rail. As he does, he falls on top of her. Quartermaster Rowe slides down the ladder from the docking bridge and races across the fantail. ** "**Here, what's all this?" the Titanic officer demands. He runs up and pulls Howard off of Rose, revealing her disheveled and sobbing on the deck. Her dress and stocking are torn. Rowe sees the young man with his jacket off and a woman in distress and jumps to a conclusion. Two other seamen sprint across the deck to join them.

"Here you, stand back! Don't move an inch!" Rowe said to Howard, and then he turns to the seamen. "Fetch the Master at Arms." A few minutes later, Howard is being detained by the burly Master-at-Arms, basically the ship's police. He has handcuffed Howard. Caledon Hockley is right in front of Howard, and furious. He has just rushed out here with his bodyguard Lovejoy and another man, Colonel Archibald Gracie. Hockley offers his coat to Rose, who is hunched over crying on a bench nearby, but she waves it away. But he is more concerned with Howard. He grabs him by the lapels.

"What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancée? Look at me, you scum! What did you think you were doing? " Rose jumps up and grabs his arm. "Cal, stop! It was an accident."** "**An accident?" Rose continues, "It was... stupid really. I was leaning over and I slipped. I was leaning way over, to see the... ah... propellers. And I slipped and I would have gone overboard... and Mr. Hughes here saved me and he almost went over himself." Hockley is incredulous. "You wanted to see the propellers?"

Colonel Gracie, shakes his head, "Women and machinery do not mix." He laughed slightly. The Master-at-Arms turns to Howard. "Was that the way of it?" Rose, begs with her eyes, for Howard to not to say what really happened. Hughes understanding nods. "Uh huh. That was pretty much it." Colonel Gracie smiles, "Well! The boy's a hero then. Good for you son, well done!" He turns to Cal. "So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"

Howard is uncuffed. Cal gets Rose to her feet and moving. Rubbing her arms, he says "Let's get you in. You're freezing." He begins leaving without a second thought for Howard. Colonel Gracie, in a low voice says to him, "Ah... perhaps a little something for the boy?" Cal nods perfunctorily, "Oh, right. Mr. Lovejoy. A twenty should do it." Rose is mildly shocked, even knowing Hockley as he is. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?"

Cal, seeing the error, smiles and says "Rose is displeased. Mmm... What to do?" He turns back to Howard. He appraises him condescendingly... has the look of a broke cow-hand, unwashed and ill-mannered. "I know." Hockley turns to Hughes. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow, to entertain our group with your heroic exploit?" Howard looks straight at Rose, and nods. "Sure. Count me in." Hockley smiles knowingly. "Good. Settled then." He turns to go, putting an arm around Rose. He then leans close to Gracie as they walk away. "This should be amusing."

Spicer Lovejoy, Hockley's man-servant and bodyguard, eyes Hughes suspiciously. "Seems strange," he began, "How did you have time to remove your jacket, before Miss Bukater fell into the water?" Howard looked at him lazily. "Don't keep it on...like the cool, fresh air, ma'self, friend." Lovejoy nods, but in clear disbelief.

SATURDAY APRIL 13, 1912-

Rose unlatches the gate to go down into third class section of the ship. The men of Steerage on the deck stop and stare at her. She walks into the General Area of third class. Stark of decoration compared to first class, but is a loud, boisterous place. Children running about. People playing cards or chess. Women nursing children or doing needlepoint or even darning socks. She spots Howard. He is playing with 5 year old Bobby O'Reilly, drawing balloons and aero-planes together in his sketchbook. Hughes' Italian friend, Fabrizio, is working hard to make time with a pretty Norwegian girl, Helga Dahl, despite clear lack of common language, Italian or English or Norwegian.

"No Italian? Some little English?" he says. The pretty blonde shakes her head. "No, no. Norwegian. Only." Helga's eye is caught by someone approaching. Fabrizio looks, does a take and Howard, curious, follows their gaze to see... Rose, coming toward them. The activity in the room stops... everyone is silent. Rose feels suddenly self-conscious as the steerage group gawk openly at this hoi-polloi young woman, some with resentment, others with awe. She spots Howard and gives a little smile, walking straight to him. He rises to meet her, smiling.

"Hello Mr. Hughes." Fabrizio and Helga are floored. It's like a silk purse talking to a sow's ear. "Hello again," Howard responds. "Could I speak to you in private?" she asks. ** "**Uh, yeah. Of course. After you. " He motions her ahead and follows.

On the Boat Deck, Howard and Rose walk side by side. They pass people reading and talking in steamer chairs, some of whom glance curiously at the obviously mis-cast couple. Howard pays no attention. He smiles, "So, you got a name by the way?" "Rose," she begins then formally, "Rose DeWitt Bukater." Howard whistles. "That's a mouthful... I may hafta get you to write that down." Rose smirks.

Then more serious, "Mr. Hughes, I..." "Howard." She nods and begins again, "Howard... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you. " "Well, here ya are." "Here I am. I... I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion." "You're welcome. Rose." The two young people look at each other silently, but just for a moment.

Rose begins lightly, "Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about hardship?" Hughes shakes his head. "That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out." Rose contemplating her situation again, says "I don't... it wasn't just one thing. It was everything. It was them, it was their whole world. And I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber." She catches her breath and then hurriedly continues, "I just had to get away... just run and run and run... and then I was at the back rail and there was no more ship... even the Titanic wasn't big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I'd really though about it, I was over the rail. I was so furious. I'll show them. They'll be sorry!"

Hughes nods. "Uh huh. They'll be sorry." Then raising his eyebrows, 'Course I reckon you'll be dead." Rose lowers her head, "Oh God, I am such an utter fool." Howard digs deeper. "That high collar last night, is he one of them?" "High collar? Oh, Cal! He is them." "Is he your boyfriend?" Howard asks. "Worse I'm afraid." She shows him her engagement ring. A sizable diamond. Howard is impressed. "Good Gawd, look at that hunk a' rock! You would have gone straight to the bottom." They laugh together.

He continues. "So you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off 'cause you're marryin' this fella." "Yes, exactly!" Rose answers. "So don't marry him." She shakes her head sadly. "If only it were that simple."** "**It is that simple," Howard insists. Rose retorts, "Oh, Howard... please don't judge me until you've seen my world." Hughes gets a strange knowing look on his face, but only for a moment. "Well, I guess I will tonight."

Rose tries to change the subject, she indicates his sketchbook. "What's this?" He lifts it nonchalantly. "Just some drawings. Plans, you might say." ** "**May I?"

She grabs the book before Howard answers. Rose sits on a deck chair and opens the sketchbook. At first, she is confused. The drawings are mechanical, electrical, and aeronautical devices. One appears to be some sort of wireless telegraph transmitter, but vastly larger than anything Rose had ever seen, which wasn't much in 1912. Range and frequency notations were beside it. "New York-Dublin?" scribbled on the corner of the page. Then, there was a rotary engine, with a propeller attached. Seven cylinders, with various horsepower, fuel consumption, and other figures listed beside it. There were also detailed images of cross-struts and braces, apparently forming the structure of an aero-plane wing.

"Howard? What is all this? It's fascinating," she asked. He shrugged. "Well, they didn't think too much of 'em in Paree. Not even Monsieur Bleriot." Some loose sketches fall out of the notebook and are swept off the deck and into the sea before Howard can grab them.

Rose is aghast. "Oh no! Oh, I'm so sorry. Truly!" Howard waves her off. "Well, again, not much interest by the French fellers. I just seem to spew 'em out. Besides, they're not worth a damn anyway. Don't have the power yet or the alloys." He throws two of the ones he caught up in the air. The wind carries them some distance, behind the ship and then into the sea. Rose laughs. "You're deranged!" She goes back to the notebook, turning a page.

"Incredible." She has come upon a series of plans. Rose is transfixed by the image. It is an aero-plane, but unlike any she has ever seen. Not the canvas and wooden "flying kites", as she had witnessed once at a demonstration outside of Pittsburgh. Not some ungainly thing, prone to snap in two in a strong wind...but a huge, _metallic_ vehicle, with curving, boat-like lines, a dozen glass windows on the sides, and multiple engines on its wings. The landing wheels were folded up against the body and pontoon floats were on the wingtips, indicating it could land on the sea as well as the land. For all, a "Titanic" done as a flying machine.

Rose, trying to not to be at all derisive, asks, "This aero-plane. It could actually fly?" Howard nods slowly. "Yup. Not that those slack-jaws in France would' a believed. They all called me crazy. Said such a thing was 40, 50 years off in the future...at best. But it can be built...and she would fly. Enough testing, and with stopovers in Newfoundland, the Dane colony in Greenland, Iceland and Dublin...New York to Paris in 30 hours. Maybe less. She'd make it. She will make it…someday."

Rose smiles. "You're a visionary, Howard. You see the future." Howard looks deeply into her eyes. "I saw your future." She looks back. "And...?" He smiles. "You wouldn't a jumped."

Later as the sun sets, Howard and Rose lean on the A-deck rail aft. The ship's lights are on. He has been recounting his life up to his teen years. Some key elements he has casually "stepped over." Rose asks "So then what, Mr. Wanderer? "Well, then I figured after my mom died, I best get out of Texas and see the world a bit." Rose says, "I'm so sorry." Hughes smiled wistfully then continues, "Eventually, I hopped a freighter in Galveston. Worked my way over to Europe. Kicked around there for a while. Talked to a lot of the English, French, and German pilots and engineers. Read as much as I could. Finally got to meet Bleriot two weeks before hitching a ride over to England to board this boat."

Rose recognizes the name. "You mentioned him before. Is that Louis Bleriot? The man who flew across the English Channel?" Howard smiles at her knowledge. "You know of him? Rose nods. He continues his tale, but seems slightly downhearted, "Yeah; though he wasn't too impressed with me. Told me an 'enfant' like me, didn't know enough about flying to take his time. I about punched the stuck-up Frenchie. I'd learn how to fly when I was fourteen, back in ought-9." Rose is incredulous. "On an aero-plane? There couldn't have been too many…"

Howard concedes the obvious point. "Well, no. Obviously the Wright Brothers weren't taking teenagers up for rides or nothing. But I learned the mechanics. Built a wing from scrap wood and canvas, and a control lever, and a seat and used my mind to envision how it would operate in real life. When I finally got to see a plane in person, a year later in Ohio, it looked just like the image in my head. Orville himself let me sit at the controls...seemed confused how a 'kid' knew what stall speed was. So Louis Bleriot can taste my heel for all I care."

Rose is fascinated. "What else?" Howard mentions, "Met Georges Méliès." "The moving picture director? _Le Voyage dans la Lune_?" Howard is now very impressed. Méliès was not that well known in the States. "You know him and that film?"

Roses nods excitedly. "Yes. I saw it in Philadelphia. They had a showing of several French films. It was amazing. Though I must say a bit farcical from the original Jules Verne version." Howard equally excited, agrees. "Yes. But his imagery and use of mechanical effects and editing was brilliant. I could barely tell where he cut and spliced his film." "You interested in moving pictures, too, Howard? "Sure. It's a fascinatin' means of communication, I think. Novels and such are great, but the impact of the visual image is something...something kinda magical." A moment of satisfied silence between them.

Rose finally speaks. "You think we'll go there some day." Howard is confused. "Where?" "The Moon? You think we'll be able to travel to the Moon, other planets, the stars, "she continues. Howard confidently says, "Yup. No doubt. Not in some artillery shell. You'd vaporize before you left the mouth of the cannon. Rockets, more likely. Feller I met in Paris...Esnault-Pelterie...we talked rockets one night and using them to propel planes. So why not travel in outer space in one? Look how far we've come since Kitty Hawk in just nine years."

Rose catches herself moving closer to Howard as he stares up in the sky. Suddenly she blanches. He sees her expression and turns. Her mother, Ruth Bukater, the Countess of Rothes, and Molly Brown have been watching them, staring at the sky together. Rose becomes instantly composed.

"Mother, may I introduce Howard Hughes." Ruth Bukater in feigned politeness, covering obvious distain, replies, "Charmed, I'm sure." Rose continues the introductions and tells the ladies of how the two met the previous night. At the end of the story, Margaret "Molly" Brown states, "Well, Howard, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot. Hughes? Hughes? Seems I've heard of a Hughes feller from Texas." Howard looks nervous. "It's a common enough name and…" Suddenly, they all jump as a bugler sounds the meal call right behind them.

Molly irritated says, "Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?" Rose, still trying to cover, turns to her mother and says "Shall we go dress, mother?" She looks back, over her shoulder. "See you at dinner, Howard." Ruth, as they walk away, scolds, "Rose, look at you... out in the sun with no hat. Honestly!" The Countess exits with Ruth and Rose, leaving Howard and Molly alone on deck.

She grins at him. "Son, do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?" Howard grins back. "No, ma'am, not really I reckon." "Well, you're about to go into the snake-pit. I hope you're ready. What are you planning to wear?" His brown shoes were scuffed, his khaki pants threadbare at the knees. His denim shirt faded. Even his brown trilby felt hat, otherwise quite stylish, was covered in lint and dust. He hadn't thought about that. He looks down at his clothes and back up at her, and waves his hand down his shirt. "I figured," Mrs. Brown nods.


	3. Chapter 3

Later, after borrowing one of Molly Brown's suits, purchased in Paris for her son, Howard descends the Grand Staircase to A deck. Though much more formal than he has been in some time, or cares to be, he blended in easily with the gentlemen and ladies of wealth. A few of the men nod a perfunctory greeting. Hughes nods back.

Caledon Hockley comes down the stairs, with Ruth Bukater on his arm, covered in jewelry. They both walk right past Howard, neither one recognizing him. Cal nods at him, one equal to another. But Howard barely has time to be amused. Because just behind Cal and Ruth on the stairs is Rose, beautiful her in a red and black, low-cut dress exposing off her neck and shoulders, her arms covered in white gloves that come well above the elbow. Howard is stunned by her beauty.

Rose approaches Howard. He imitates the gentlemen's stance, a hand behind his back. She extends her gloved hand and he takes it, kissing the top of her fingers. Rose flushes, beaming noticeably. She too is hypnotized by his formal appearance. "I saw that in a nickelodeon once, and I always wanted to do it,"he explains.

Rose smiles. She taps Caledon Hockley on the arm. "Cal, surely you remember Mr. Hughes." Hockley is caught off guard, he looks toward the tall, lanky Texan, now dressed as fine as any man in the First Class Dining. "Hughes! I didn't recognize you." He studies him for a moment. "Incredible! You could almost pass for a gentlemen." Hughes nods in feigned courtesy to the "compliment". "Yeah, near abouts."

The party descends to dinner. They encounter Molly Brown, in a elegant beaded dress, quite lovely in her own stout broad-shouldered way. Molly grins when she sees Howard. As they are going into the dining saloon she walks next to him, speaking low:** "**Ain't nothin' to it, is there, Howard?"** "**No, never is," he responds. Then catches himself, revealing too much. "Yeah, you just dress like a pallbearer and keep your nose up." Molly, not noticing, continues, "Remember, the only thing they respect is money, so just act like you've got a lot of it and you're in the club." Howard nods, with an impish smirk on his face.

As they enter the dining area, Rose leans close to him, pointing out

several notables.** "**There's the Countess Rothes. And that's John Jacob Astor... the richest man on the ship. His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate

condition. See how she's trying to hide it. Quite the scandal." She nods toward a couple. "And over there, that's Sir Cosmo and Lucile, Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs

naughty lingerie, among her many talents. Very popular with the royals."

Cal Hockley becomes engrossed in a conversations with Cosmo Duff-Gordon and Colonel Gracie, while Ruth, the Countess and Lucille discuss fashion. Rose leads

Howard smoothly, to show him another couple, dressed impeccably. "And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert. is at home with the children, of course." The entourage strolls toward the dining saloon, where they run into the Astors going through the ornate double doors.

She turns to make an introduction. "J.J., Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Howard Hughes." Astor, a mustached man in his late 40s, shakes Howard's hand. "Good to meet you Howard. Are you of the Newport Hugheses?" Howard thinking quickly, replies, "No, the Umble Hughes, actually." He uses the name of the small town where his father worked for a while. It was unknown, especially by that pronunciation, to most outside of Houston. J.J. nods as if he's heard of them, then looks puzzled. Howard continues, "I enjoyed your book, 'Journey In Other Worlds', very much." Astor nods at the compliment.

The dinner then commenced. While Howard was comfortable amongst the hoi-polloi, Ruth Bukater would have none of it and decides to once again remind the group of his origins. "Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Hughes. I hear they're quite

good on this ship." Rose is visibly angry at her mother, but Howard ignores the attempt.

"The best I've seen, ma'am. Nary a rat in sight." He removes the napkin from his plate.

Hockley, joining in, adds, "Mr. Hughes is joining us from third class. He was of some assistance to my fiancee last night." As a plate is served, he turns to Howard and says, as if to a child, "This is foie gras. It's goose liver." Howard responds, getting the upper hand, "Actually, it's _foie gras entier frais_. Fresh, not cooked, ya know." Cal Hockley is knocked for a loop, but tries to recover.

A waiter steps up to Hughes. "How do you take your caviar, sir?" Cal answers for him, "Just a soupcon of lemon." He looks at Howard, smiling. "It improves the flavor with champagne." But the younger man waves off the waiter. " No caviar for me, thanks." He looks to Cal. "Too salty for my taste." He looks at Rose, pokerfaced, and she smiles.

Mrs. Bukater continues her assault. "And where exactly do you live, Mr. Hughes?" "Well, right now, ma'am, my address is the RMS Titanic. After that, I'm out and about to see the wide world." She sniffs slightly. "You find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Howard continues, "For the time being, ma'am. It's a big world, and I want to see it all before I go." He pauses to grab a roll from the bread basket. "You can't wait around, because you never know what hand you're going to get dealt next. See, my mother died when I was fourteen, and I've been traveling about ever since. Somethin' like that teaches you to take life as it comes at you. To make each day count. Carpe diem."

Hockley confused, says "Carp what? What do fish have to do with anything?" Rose corrects him and enjoys it. "Carpe diem, Cal. It's Latin for 'seize the day'." Hockley nods knowingly, as if he "knew it all the time." Hughes smiles at Rose's recognition of the phrase.

Molly Brown raises her glass in a salute. "Well said, Howard. Seize the day!" Colonel Gracie also raises his glass. "Here, here." Rose raises her glass, looking at Howard. She underscores the other comment. "And to making it count." The rest join in as well, Caledon and Ruth obviously begrudgingly. Ruth, annoyed that Howard has ingratiated himself with the group, presses him further. "How is it you have the means to travel, Mr. Hughes?"

Howard finally decides to "reveal the trick". "Well, I have a little saved up. But I try not to splurge. Though…" He pauses with a bit of an air. "When I return to the USA, I plan on outlaying a little cash and buying myself an airplane to travel about the country-side." Colonel Gracie notices first. "An aero-plane?" Cal Hockley, sees an opening. "Bit of an expensive toy, for a chap like you, aren't they, Hughes?"

Howard, with a slight smile, continues, "Well, Mr. Glenn Curtiss of Hammandsport, New York sells airplanes and his Model D goes for about $500." Ruth Bukater sniffs again, "You can afford to throw away $500 on something frivolous like that, Mr. Hughes?"

Howard thinks for a moment, then says, "Well, ma'am, actually, I could buy one every day of the week for the next….uh..164 years. And be okay I guess." The group sits in stunned silence for a moment. Cal Hockley is confused by the odd comment. "I'm sorry….what?"

Howard confirms. (He is a mathematical genius, something unknown to even Rose at the time.) "Yeah. Take about thirty million dollars, divide it by $500, comes out at about 60,000 planes…one a day for 365 days would be enough for 164 years and about 5 months. Course, that's not counting leap year days…and naturally, the storage sheds to keep them all…or the land you'd need for the sheds…and the runways of course." He acts like he's contemplating the prospect for a moment, then smiles at Rose. She is still confused.

Cal, continuing to be caught off-guard. "I'm sorry…are you saying you have thirty million dollars?" Hughes confirms again. "Near abouts. Of course, I haven't talked to the bankers in several months, so it may be more now. Then there's Dad's money to consider…"

With nearly a shout, Molly Brown points at Howard. "Howard Hughes!…Howard Robard Hughes! Junior, right? From Houston, Texas? I knew I knew that name. Your father patented a drill bit for oil rigs. I read about him and his partner…Sharp, isn't it? Made a fortune off the leasings….right?" Hughes nodded, smiling broadly.

Ruth Bukater looks at Molly then stares at Howard. "Are you saying this is not a joke?"

Mrs. Brown nods. "Sorry, Ruth. This boy's dad gets a cut from every oil well drilled from Galveston to Tulsa, Oklahoma….he's millionaire several times over." The gathering is now doubly stunned. Rose stares at him. "Howard, is this true?" Hughes shrugs. "'Fraid so, Rose."

Hockley refuses to accept it. "But that makes no sense. Why are you in steerage?" Howard plays it out. "I told you…I don't like to splurge. No point in wasting a bunch of money on a big fancy room, when it's just me. Plus my pal, Fabrizio was traveling steerage and I didn't want to leave him down there by himself."

Colonel Gracie laughs. "My friends…we've been had." Rose, a little angry, but also a bit intrigued, asks, "Why did you keep that a secret?" Her "poor bohemian visionary" has just turned out to be as rich, if not richer, than her fiancé.

Howard calmly explains. "Mostly just never thought to mention it. But I figured it was getting a bit mean to keep it going. After all, you folks have been truly grand to me and I feel bad for foolin' you any more." Hughes blatantly nods to Rose, Gracie, Thomas Andrews, Bruce Ismay, and Molly Brown…and not to Ruth Bukater or Cal Hockley.

Cal, attempting to recover, says, "Well, then…uh, Hughes. Apparently, we've misjudged you. Obviously you are a fellow gentlemen, playing a bit of a low trick on us, I must say though." Hughes retorts, "Well, Cal, I usually find that folks don't really get to know me…if the money is the first thing they see. Those that do take the time….later, they don't care about the money. In a way, being 'poor' …means I get an honest view of 'em." He glances at Rose.

The rest of the dinner proceeds with much excitement. As with Rose, Hughes recalls his travels to Europe, discussions with the pilots and engineers, and eventually comes around to his "Trans-Atlantic Flier", the plane he showed Rose on the deck. Bruce Ismay, Managing Director of the White Star Line, asks, "But why would a person want to ride in such a contraption across the Atlantic…when they have the option of traveling in a vessel such as…" He motions around him at the Titanic.

"Speed, primarily, I guess Mr. Ismay," Howard begins, "Nothing against this fine ship…my compliments to you and Mr. Andrews. She's as grand as a palace." Thomas Andrews, the shipbuilder, nods at the compliment. "But a good number of folks, in the future, are going to want to get where they want to go a bit faster than 20-odd nautical miles per hour….or a bit less than a week at sea."

Cal Hockley, trying to support Ismay against Hughes, asks, "Why, for Heaven's sakes? What's the hurry?" Howard counters, "Well, what was the hurry to travel by horse rather than by foot? What was the rush to travel by railroad rather than by horse? Why didn't Mr. Andrews here design the 'Titanic' with sails…instead of coal-fired engines?"

Rose, now more comfortable with the "new, rich" Hughes, replies, "Then again, Howard...If we were traveling by airplane, you and I would likely never have met, would we? I'd be sitting in the front section of the plane, you in the back." Howard acknowledges the point with a smile. "Yeah….guess you got me there. Although actually, I'd probably be at the wheel of the beast"

The conversation and dinner ended and Rose leaned over to Howard and whispers.

"Next it'll be brandies in the Smoking Room." If on cue, Colonel Gracie rises, "Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?" Rose smiles and in a low voice adds, "Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe. No doubt you'll be invited NOW for that."

Again, as if manipulated by Rose, Colonel Gracie turns to Howard. "Joining us, Hughes? You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?" Actually Howard does, but he replies, "No, thanks. I'm heading back." Caledon Hockley relieved, yet maintaining his snobbish air. "Probably best. It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. Nothing as interesting or ..fantastic..as aero-plane travel. Good of you to come." He and the other gentlemen exit.

Rose protests, "Howard, must you go?" He nods. "Other engagements and such, Rose." He leans over to take her hand. He slips a tiny folded paper into her palm. Ruth Bukater, scowling, watches him walk away across the enormous room. Rose surreptitiously opens the note below table level. It reads: "Carpe Diem. Meet me at the clock".

Excusing herself from her mother and the other women, Rose crosses the A-Deck foyer, sighting Howard at the landing above. He has his back to her, studying the ornate clock

with its carved figures of Honor and Glory. It softly strikes the hour. He

turns, sees her... smiles. "Want to go to a real party?"

Hughes leads her back down to the 3rd Class General Room. It is alive with music, laughter and raucous carrying on. An ad hoc band is gathered near the upright piano, honking out lively stomping music on fiddle, accoridon and tambourine. People of all ages are dancing, drinking beer and wine, smoking, laughing, even brawling.

Tommy hands Rose a pint of stout and she hoists it. Howard meanwhile dances

with 5 year old Cora Cartmell, or tries to, with her standing on his feet.

As the tune ends, Rose leans down to the little girl and says "May I cut in, miss?"

Howard bends down and smiles at the child. "You're still my best girl, Cora." She scampers off. Rose and Howard face each other. She is trembling as he

takes her right hand in his left. His other hand slides to the small of her

back. "I don't know the steps" Rose says. "Me neither." The music starts and they are off. A little awkward at first, she starts to get into it. She grins at Howard as she starts to get the rhythm of the steps.

Rose dancing with Howard in her stocking feet. She kicked off her shoes and the pair are now much more graceful. Beside them, Hughes' friend Fabrizio is dancing with Helga.

The tune ends in a mad rush. Howard steps away from Rose with a flourish,

allowing her to take a bow. Exhilarated and slightly tipsy, she does a

graceful ballet ployer, feet turned out perfectly. Everyone laughs and

applauds.

They move to a table, flushed and sweaty. Rose grabs Fabrizio's cigarette

and takes a big drag. Fabrizio is grinning, holding hands with Helga.

"How you two doin'?" Howard asks. "I don't know what she's say, she don't know what I say, so we get along fine," the young Italian answers, grinning. Tommy walks up with a pint for each of them. Rose chugs hers, showing off. Hughes and the other two men stare.Rose shrugs. "You think a first class girl can't drink?"

Everybody else is dancing again, and Bjorn Gundersen crashes into Tommy,

who sloshes his beer over Rose's dress. She laughs, not caring. But Tommy

lunges, grabbing Bjorn and wheeling him around. Tommy yells "You stupid bastard!

Bjorn comes around, his fists coming up... and Howard leaps into the middle

of it, pushing them apart. "Boys, boys! Did I ever tell you the one about the Swede and the Irishman goin' to the whorehouse?" Tommy stands there, still angry. Then he grins and claps Bjorn on the shoulder.

Rose waves her hand dismissively. "So, you think you're big tough men? Let's see you do this." In her stocking feet she assumes a ballet stance, arms raised, and goes up

on point, taking her entire weight on the tips of her toes. The men stare again

at her incredible muscle control. She comes back down, then her face screws

up in pain. She grabs one foot, hopping around.

"Oooowww! I haven't done that in years," she yelps. Howard catches her as she loses her balance, and everyone cracks up. The doorto the well deck is open a few inches as Lovejoy watches through the gap. He sees Howard holding Rose, both of them laughing.

He closes the door.

Later on the Boat deck, the stars blaze overhead, the Milky Way is clearly seen.

Rose and Howard walk along the row of lifeboats. Still giddy from the party,

they are singing a popular song "Come Josephine in My Flying Machine".

Rose fumbles the words and both break down laughing. They have reached the First

Class Entrance, but don't go straight in, not wanting the evening to end.

Through the doors the sound of the ship's orchestra wafts gently. Rose

grabs a davit and leans back, staring into space. "Isn't it magnificent? So grand and endless."

"They're such small people, Howard... my crowd," she continues, "They think they're giants on the earth, but they're not even dust in God's eye. They live inside this

little tiny champagne bubble... and someday the bubble's going to burst." She turns, "You're not like them. I mean, you have just as much money, but it's like it doesn't matter to you!"

He leans at the rail next to her, his hand just touching hers. "You're not one of them. There's been a mistake," he states. "A mistake? "Uh huh. You got mailed to the wrong address." Rose laughs. "I did, didn't I? Should have been someplace further south, I think. 'cept I'm not a 'yellow' Rose." They both understood the reference to the traditional Texan song.

Suddenly, Rose pointed. "Look! A shooting star." Howard whistled. "That was a long one." Then he adds, "A chunk of rock flying about the Heavens for a million years, unseen, un-noticed until it hits the Earth's atmosphere, flaring brightly for moments and then gone." Rose is surprised to hear something so poetic from the tall, lanky man. Yet another surprise from him.To change the tone a bit, she says, "Aren't we supposed to wish on it?"

Howard looks at her, and finds that they are suddenly very close together. It

would be so easy to move another couple of inches, to kiss her. Rose seems

to be thinking the same thing. "What would you wish for?" After a beat, Rose pulls back. "Something I can't have." She smiles sadly. "Goodnight, Howard. And thank you." "Rose..I…" he begins, but she leaves the rail and hurries through the First Class Entrance. "Rose!" But the door bangs shut, and she is gone.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, on the private promenade of Caledon Hockley's suite. It is a bright clear day and Rose and Cal are having breakfast in silence. The air reeks of tension. Trudy Bolt, in her maid's uniform, pours the coffee and goes inside.

Cal begins, "I had hoped you would come to me last night." "I was tired," Rose answers.

Hockley expecting that retorts, "Yes. Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting." Rose stiffens. "I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me."

Hockley, still appearing calm, states, "You will never behave like that again! Do you understand?" Rose becomes indignant. "I'm not some foreman in your mills than you can command! I am your fiancée…" Cal explodes, sweeping the breakfast china off the table with a crash. He moves to her in one shocking moment, glowering over her and gripping the sides of her chair, so she is trapped between his arms.

"Yes! You are! And my wife...in practice, if not yet by law. So you will

honor me, as a wife is required to honor her husband! I will not be made

out a fool! Is this in any way unclear?"

Rose shrinks into the chair. She sees Trudy, frozen, partway through the

door bringing the orange juice. Cal follows Rose's glance and straightens

up. He stalks past the maid, entering the stateroom.

"We... had a little accident. I'm sorry, Trudy, " Rose states, managing a weak false smile.

Later in Ruth Bukater's suite**, **Rose is dressing for the day, and Ruth is in the middle of helping Rose with her corset. Ruth takes out her anger on the tight bindings and on Rose. 

"You are not to see that boy again, do you understand me Rose? I forbid it!

She has her knee on the small of Rose's back and presses down harder than normal, while pulling the corset strings with both hands. Rose winces, but fights back, "Oh, stop it, Mother. You'll give yourself a nosebleed." Ruth pulls away from her, and crosses to the door, locking it. Wheeling on Rose, "Rose, this is not a game! Our situation is precarious. You know the money's gone!" Rose turns to her mother. "Of course I know it's gone. You remind me every day!"

Ruth continues, "Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good

name. And that name is the only card we have to play." She turns Rose around and grabs the corset strings again. Rose sucks in her waist and Rose pulls.

The older woman calms a bit. "I don't understand you. It is a fine match with Hockley, and it will insure our survival." Rose feels hurt and lost. "How can you put this on my shoulders?" Rose turns to her, and sees the naked fear in her mother's eyes.

Ruth seems on the verge of panic. "Do you want to se me working as a seamstress? Is that what you want? Do you want to see our fine things sold at an auction, our memories scattered to the winds? My God, Rose, how can you be so selfish?"

"Mother, I think Howard truly cares for me. And he's as wealthy as Cal." Ruth looks at her fiercely. "Has he made you a promise, Rose? Has he proposed? In front of witnesses? What do you know about that boy? Molly says he's rich, but how do we know that? And even if he is, how do we know that he isn't just going to use you, then run off on one of his adventures never to be seen again?"Rose ponders this for a moment.

Ruth continues, "Caledon Hockley proposed to you. All of Pittsburgh society knows of the engagement. His family has accepted you and he will not embarrass us or them by leaving you at the altar or… (she emphasizes) some hotel room!"

Rose is crestfallen. "It's not fair." Ruth nods, agreeing. "Of course it's not fair. We're women. It's never fair for us." She finishes doing Rose's corset.

At the divine service, Captain Smith is leading a group in the hymn

"Almighty Father Strong To Save", in the First Class Dining Saloon. Rose and Ruth sing in the middle of the group. Spicer Lovejoy stands well back, keeping an eye on Rose. He notices a commotion at the entry doors. Howard has been halted there by two stewards. He is dressed in his third class clothes, and stands there, hat in hand, looking out of

place.A steward blocks him at the door. "Look, you, you're not supposed to be in here."

Howard protests. "I was just here last night... don't you remember?" He sees Lovejoy coming toward him. "He'll tell you." Lovejoy joins with the steward. "Mr. Hockley and Mrs. DeWitt Bukater continue to be most appreciative of your assistance… and also to remind you that you hold a third class ticket and your presence here is no longer appropriate." Howard spots Rose but she doesn't see him. "I just need to talk to Rose for a…" Lovejoy motions to the stewards, giving them twenty dollars each. "Gentlemen, please see that Mr. Hughes gets back where he belongs." The stewards smile at the tips and nod. "And that he stays there," the manservant adds. "Yes sir!" the stewards respond, and then turning to Howard, "Come along you."

On a tour of the ship, Ruth and company enter the gymnasium.. Thomas Andrews is leading a small tour group, including Rose, Ruth and Cal.

Howard, walking with determination, is followed closely by Tommy and

Fabrizio. He quickly climbs the steps to B-Deck and steps over the gate

separating 3rd from 2nd class. Tommy and Fabrizio are behind him.

He moves furtively to the wall below the A-Deck promenade, aft.

Tommy shakes his head resignedly and puts his hands together, crouching

down. Howard steps into Tommy's hands and gets boosted up to the next deck,

where he scrambles nimbly over the railing, onto the First Class deck.

Howard emerges from behind one of the huge deck cranes and calmly picks up the coat and bowler hat. He walks away, slipping into the coat, and slicks his hair back

with spit. Then puts the hat on at a jaunty angle. At a distance he could

pass for a gentlemen.

Andrews leads the group back from the bridge along the boat deck.

"Mr. Andrews, I did the sum in my head," Rose starts, "And with the number of lifeboats

times the capacity you mentioned... forgive me, but it seems that there are

not enough for everyone aboard." Andrews nods. "About half, actually. Rose, you miss nothing, do you? In fact, I put in these new type davits, which can take an extra row of boats here." He gestures along the deck. "But it was thought... by some... that the deck would look too cluttered. So I was over-ruled."

Cal Hockley, slaps the side of a lifeboat, states, "Waste of deck space as it is, on an unsinkable ship!" Thomas Andrews smiles. "Sleep soundly, young Rose. I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She's all the lifeboat you need."

As they are passing Boat 7, a gentlemen turns from the rail and walks up

behind the group. It is Howard. He taps Rose on the arm and she turns,

gasping. He motions and she cuts away from the group toward a door which

Howard holds open. They duck into the Gymnasium.

Howard closes the door behind her, and glances out through the ripple-glass

window to the starboard rail, where the gym instructor is chatting up the

woman who was riding the bike. Rose and Howard are alone in the room.

"Howard, this is impossible. I can't see you," Rose states, but barely emphatically. Howard takes her by the shoulders. "Rose, you're no picnic... you're a spoiled little brat even, but under that you're a strong, pure heart, and you're the most amazingly astounding girl I've ever known and…" She interrupts. "Howard, I…" But he continues, "No, wait. Let me try to get this out. You're an amazing woman...and I know if you stick with Hockley, you're going to shrink away to nuthin', Rose. I know that. And I can't let that happen. You jump, I jump, remember? I can't turn away without knowin' that you're goin' to be alright."

Rose feels the tears coming to her eyes. Howard is so open and real... not

like anyone she has ever known. "You're making this very hard. I'll be fine. Really."

"I don't think so. They've got you in a glass jar like some butterfly, and

you're goin' to die if you don't break out. Maybe not right away, 'cause

you're strong. But sooner or later the fire in you is goin' to go out." She protests. "**I**t's not up to you to save me, Howard." He nods. "You're right. Only you can do that."

She stares at him for a moment. "I have to get back, they'll miss me. Please, Howard, for both our sakes, leave me alone."

Later in the First Class Lounge, Rose sits on a divan, with a group of other women arrayed around her. Ruth, the Countess Rothes and Lady Duff-Gordon are taking tea. Rose is silent and still as a porcelain figurine as the conversation washes around her.

"Of course the invitations had to be sent back to the printers twice. And

the bridesmaids dresses! Let me tell you what an odyssey that has been..." Ruth Bukater begins her story of "challenge and triumph."

Rose turns and sees a mother and daughter having tea. The little girl, wearing white gloves, daintily picking up a cookie. The mother correcting her on her posture, and the way she holds the teacup. The little girl is trying so hard to please, her expression serious. Rose imagines herself at that age, and sees the relentless conditioning... the pain to

becoming an Edwardian geisha. Within a moment, she calmly and deliberately turns her teacup over, spilling tea all over her dress. "Oh, look what I've done."

Dusk approaches. At the bow of Titanic, Howard stands, right at the apex of the bow railing, his favorite spot. He closes his eyes, letting the chill wind clear his head.

He hears her voice, behind him...

"Hello, Howard." He turns and Rose is standing there. "I've changed my mind." He smiles at her, his eyes drinking her in. Her cheeks are red with the

chill wind, and her eyes sparkle. Her hair blows wildly about her face.

"I want you to know…I don't care," she begins, "I don't care what happens. I want to spend as much time with you as you'll give me." Hughes is puzzled. "What?" "Mother said that perhaps you would just use me…a rich playboy, making no 'honest' declarations for me. Once you were through, you'd leave me." She looks up, determined. "But I don't care. I'd rather have a month with you, than years living like that." She indicates the First Class Deck.

Hughes smiles, then seriously. "Well, your mother is right. I am using you." Rose is stunned, but just for a moment. "See, if I'm going to be flying around, I'm going to need a good co-pilot and navigator. I sure as hell can't marry some silly frill." Rose grins. Howard continues, "So? Can you read a map? Can you use a compass?" "As a matter of fact, I can," she answered. "Good, now the final test.

He puts his hands on her waist. As if he is going to kiss her. "Close your eyes," he commands. She does, and he turns her to face forward, the way the ship is going. He

presses her gently to the rail, standing right behind her. Then he takes

her two hands and raises them until she is standing with her arms

outstetched on each side. Rose is going along with him. When he lowers his

hands, her arms stay up... like wings. "Okay. Open them."

Rose gasps. There is nothing in her field of vision but water. It's like

there was no ship under them at all, just the two of them soaring. The

Atlantic unrolls toward her, a hammered copper shield under a dusk sky.

There is only the wind, and the hiss of the water 50 feel below.

"I'm flying!" She leans forward, arching her back. He puts his hands on her waist to

steady her. Howard sings softly to her. "Come Josephine in my flying machine..."

Rose closes her eyes, feeling herself floating weightless far above the

sea. She smiles dreamily, then leans back, gently pressing her back against

his chest. He pushes forward slightly against her. Slowly he raises his hands, arms outstretched, and they meet hers...fingertips gently touching. Then their fingers intertwine. Moving slowly, their fingers caress through and around each other like the bodies of two lovers.

Rose turns her head until her lips are near his. She lowers her arms,

turning further, until she finds his mouth with hers. He wraps his arms

around her from behind, and they kiss like this with her head turned and

tilted back. They kiss, slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion.

Howard and the ship seem to merge into one force of power and optimism,

lifting her, buoying her forward on a magical journey, soaring onward into

a night without fear.


	5. Chapter 5

PRESENT DAY-1996

Old Rose blinks, seeming to come back to the present. She sees the wreck on

the screen, the sad ghost ship deep in the abyss. "That was the last time Titanic ever saw daylight." Brock Lovett changes the tape in the mini-cassette recorder. "So we're up to dusk on the night of the sinking. Six hours to go," he says. Lewis Bodine inject, "Don't you love it? There's Smith, he's standing there with the iceberg

warning in his fucking hand..." Remembering Rose in the room. "Excuse me... in his hand, and he's ordering more speed."

Brock explains to the group, "26 years of experience working against him. He figures anything big enough to sink the ship they're going to see in time to turn. But the ship's too

big, with too small a rudder... it can't corner worth shit. Everything he

knows is wrong."

But Rose is ignoring this conversation. She has the art-nouveau comb with the

jade butterfly on the handle in her hands, turning it slowly. She is

watching a monitor, which shows the ruins of Suite B-52/56.


End file.
